To Be Alone
by Grey's Princess
Summary: A little drabble-ish ficlet. For the heck of it. TamaXHaru


She really hated that phrase.

"He needs to be alone," "She needs to be alone," everyone would say. It made her so mad. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason anyone would _need_ to be alone. She'd gone through nearly ten years of alone after her mother had died. Alone was not something to be needed- it was something to be avoided.

And besides, whenever someone "needed to be alone," it was always because they were upset. A loved one had died, a relationship had ended badly, a friend was sick. It was ridiculous! Everyone needed support amidst tragedy. Why would they "need" to be alone?

So when Kyouya told some of the customers that Tamaki "needed to be alone," she promptly ignored him and went off in search of the host club's "king".

She found him in one of the emptier practice rooms adjoined to the Third Music Room, one that hadn't yet been piled with props and odd cosplay from the past. The light was switched off, making it hard to see, but there was no mistaking his form, slumped on the ground in what could only be described as the perfect picture of despair. She almost didn't believe it was Tamaki- his position, collapsed against the back wall, head in his hands, was just so different from the Corner of Woe rampages they were all so used to. She allowed the door to click closed. "Sempai?"

He glanced up for a fraction of a second, just long enough for him to register who had spoken to him. And for her to glimpse just a bit of wetness on his face.

She did the only thing she could- went and sat down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You weren't supposed to come in here," he murmured, not bothering to look up at her. She twitched as she heard his voice- broken, soft, sad.

"What, you think Kyouya could have stopped me?" she asked, shaking his shoulder gently in an attempt to bring him back to reality.

"Your customers…"

"They can wait just as well as yours can," she pointed out. "Right now making sure you're okay is more important, so. What's wrong?"

"It's May fifth," he said simply, still not lifting his face.

"And…?" It never ceased to amaze her that it was so hard to extract information from him.

"My mother's birthday."

Oh. So that was what was going on. It had to be hard, being hundreds of miles away from someone you cared so much about on their birthday. And for Tamaki, being forced to leave his mother for her own welfare, it had to be at least twice as bitter. "That must be hard," she said, then cursed herself for saying something so stupid.

"you have no idea," he answered, finally lifting his face up to look at her. "I just… I miss her so much, Haruhi," he said, tears beginning to fall. Real tears. Her heart went out to him.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know. I may not know exactly what you're going through, but I do know what it feels like to not be able to see your mother, and that's not something you should have to go through alone. So if you need a shoulder to cry on, I'm here."

It was exactly what he needed. She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, her arm around his shoulder, his face hidden against her collarbone, quiet but immensely sad. Eventually, Tamaki ran his sleeve over his eyes, and gave her a weak smile. "You and I aren't all that different after all, are we?" he said, as if it were the most life-changing epiphany ever.

And who was there to say it wasn't? "No, I guess not. Except that I'll be in major trouble with Kyouya if I don't go back in there and entertain my guests. Will you be okay?"

He smiled at her, standing up. "Yes. In fact, I think I'll come with you."

"I got the impression you had the day off," she said, confused.

"Maybe, just this once, I'll come as a customer," he decided, offering his hand to help her up.

She rolled her eyes and took it. "You are such an idiot."

He continued to hide away each year when his mother's birthday rolled around. But after that day, he no longer felt the need to be alone.


End file.
